Jack and the Giant Cornstalk
by Saru Wolfe
Summary: A simple childhood story is mutilated using abnormal characters and a couple of truckloads of sarcasm. And what has Monty Python to do with it? Makes fun of virtually everything.


**Disclaimer: I'd have to be Bill Gates to afford the copyrights for everything I alluded to in here. I assure you that I am not, in fact, Bill Gates. Therefore, the only logical conclusion is that I do not own the bits of media referenced to in this fanfic. Carry on.**

**Author's Note: This is... a bit of everything. It is quite possible that no one besides myself can recognize every single reference in this work. Kudos to those who try. ****Anyway, it's parody and sarcasm and generally good harmless five-minute entertainment. Enjoy!**

**Before I forget, much credit goes to a few of my classmates. While I actually wrote the story, they invented much of the general storyline and designed the characters. So it's not, in fact, all mine.**

ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a young man named Jack…

"My name is Arnold."

Sorry – Arnold, then. Anyway, _Arnold_ lived in Czechoslovakia, in a city called Mesto. He was very poor. All he had was his tiny house and a pet rat, Herbert. Herbert was rather emaciated, so Jack decided to sell him.

"My name is Arnold!"

Jack is arguing with the narrator, which is not generally a good idea. At any rate, Jack went to Mesto's famous market to find a buyer for Herbert. At least, he would have if he hadn't been stopped halfway there by an old man.

"Hello, heroic-looking young man! Come here; I have something for you!"

Jack rolled his eyes and wandered over. "What?"

"Aren't you trying to sell your rat, young Jack?"

"Yes," he replied vehemently, "but my name is Arnold."

The old man seemed taken aback. "But you _look_ like a Jack."

Arnold had nothing to say to this, so he changed the subject. "Do you want my rat?"

The old man nodded. "I will trade you, for your rat… five magic kernels of corn!" In a single swift movement, he reached into his pocket and pulled out five bits of un-popped popcorn. Apparently, Arnold was supposed to be impressed.

He wasn't. "What good would those do for me? And anyway, I thought that you were supposed to offer me beans."

The man scowled. "All I had left was corn, and I wasn't supposed to offer them to anyone named Arnold, anyhow. Are you going to take them or not?"

Herbert looked at Arnold. Arnold looked at Herbert, and snorted. "All right, here's the rat."

They made the trade. "Now, remember," the man cackled as he stroked the sickly rat, "those pieces of corn have magic in them! Use them wisely, Jack!"

Arnold wasn't listening anymore. He was too busy wondering what to do with half a handful of corn. As he walked down the street, he cautiously bit into one. The taste was reminiscent of rotten pickles. He immediately spit it out. "This is horrible! It wasn't even worth a sick rat!" Disgusted, he threw the rest in the gutter.

----------

During the night, a crack appeared in the street. Slowly, almost ponderously, the crack widened. Just when things had gotten quiet again, the street exploded upward in a shower of dust and rocks. A blur of green shot up toward the sky. As the green thickened, leaves furled outward from the main trunk and the street fractured for thirty feet both ways as roots spread out. As suddenly as the commotion had begun, it stopped. There, standing innocently in the middle of Mesto, was a giant plant of some sort, its yellow-green top stretching up beyond the clouds.

----------

Jack… er, Arnold… was undisturbed by the colossal plant. Actually, he was in a very good mood that morning. For the first time in a long while, he had woken up without a rat curled up on his chest. It made for a better beginning of the day. He got dressed, ran his fingers through his wavy blond locks, and headed outside, humming a nameless tune.

There, catastrophe had struck. Even from the outskirts of Mesto, he could see a humongous stalk sticking up out of the buildings. Puzzled, he decided to go check it out.

It didn't take long to get there, especially when using the frantic mutterings of a hysteric crowd as a guide. By the time Arnold arrived, practically the whole city had gathered around the bottom of the stalk. Mothers held their children tightly, as if the plant was going to eat them at any moment. Arnold stared, and turned his gaze upward. He couldn't see the top. What kind of plant would grow that big?

As he stared, something about the thing bothered him. Those enormous leaves looked oddly familiar…. Suddenly, he understood. It looked just like a corn stalk, only massive – a giant corn stalk. He looked up again. If indeed it was a corn stalk, then there was only one thing that could be at the top. His stomach growled. Pushing through the crowd with no consideration whatsoever, Arnold launched himself at the plant and began his ascent.

----------

"Get up! Honestly, are you planning to sleep all day? You know I can't bloody well get around this stupid house by myself!" yelled a clearly Australian voice.

A deep groan came from the covers on the bed, and the mass within them shifted slightly. "Go away," it rumbled, though groggily.

"No. I want my bloody breakfast."

The blankets lifted, revealing an enormously tall, bedraggled-looking man. He sat up, put on his glasses, and stared wearily at a small green lizard – a gecko – on the nightstand. "Good morning, Steve," he said with minimum sarcasm and a British accent. Then he got up and staggered to the bathroom to fix himself up. The lizard watched him go.

"That's what _you_ think," it muttered.

----------

Arnold clung to the very tip of the corn stalk, wondering what in the world he was going to do now. He hadn't thought about _shucking_ the corn at first; now that he was up here, however, it was a very important point. He looked around, though it seemed pointless; he was above the cloud layer. He did, however, see something: a castle. It was the old stone model, and it seemed to be floating on the clouds. With a shout, Arnold jumped down to run to it.

The second he let go, he realized what he had done. His heart hammered painfully in his chest; his life flashed before his eyes. _What kind of idiot_, he berated himself, _jumps from the top of a giant corn stalk at thousands of feet in the air? I am going to die because I jumped off a corn stalk. What a way to go…._

Less than two seconds later, he landed firmly on the cloud layer. He opened his eyes, cautiously, one at a time. He slapped himself. "I'm… not dead?" He looked down; he was sitting on a cloud. He began to wonder which law of physics he had forgotten in all the confusion, and then stopped himself. Whatever it was that had saved him from a very embarrassing death, he wasn't going to argue with it. Shakily, he got to his feet and stumbled toward the castle.

----------

"I thought you were never going to get up, Thag," Steve commented from the other's shoulder.

The giant just smiled and continued to stride easily down the stone hall. "What do you want, chap? Does porridge sound good to you? I can…" He stopped in mid-sentence and stood perfectly still, nostrils flaring. "Fee, Fie, Foe…" he rumbled. Then, in a high, squeaky voice, he added, "Nih!" He continued normally, "I smell the blood of a Czechoslovakian!"

Steve the gecko winced. "Yeah, that's going for publishing," he said, his words fairly dripping with sarcasm.

The giant was unconcerned with his friend's needling, as usual. "I don't think that's quite right, either. But then poetry was never my forte."

Steve clung to Thag's suspenders and sighed. "All right, mate. Let's go find this bloody Czechoslovakian. Breakfast had better be good after this."

----------

Arnold had gotten in the door five minutes ago, but hadn't made it past the first room. The ceiling was higher than a two-story building, and that wasn't all; the furniture was big enough for someone at least twice the height of himself. Beside the door was the oddest device Arnold had ever seen. Two ovals of metal were connected by a band of the same substance. Coming off either end was a strip of metal that curved into a hook at the end. One oval was filled with glass; the other had fragments of glass, as if it had been broken. At any rate, the metal looked valuable, maybe valuable enough to make up for the whole corn incident.

Arnold was about to move on when he heard a booming sound. He spun around and saw a huge man, walking toward him. He froze, unsure of what to do and not sure he could do anything anyway.

Thag smiled. "Look," he said quietly, "it's a wee little chap!"

"I see that," Steve intoned. "He looks a bit nervous, doesn't he? He sort of looks like he's going to faint."

"Ah." He squatted down. "Here, I won't hurt you. My name is Pythagorum."

"Which is a bloody mouthful," the gecko interjected helpfully. "His parents didn't like him much. You can just call him Thag."

Pythagorum ignored him. "What's your name?"

Arnold didn't understand a word that this monster and his magic lizard were saying. "Who are you? What do you want?" he demanded.

"I guess he doesn't speak English," Thag noted. "That's too bad. My Czech is a bit rusty."

"I think his name is Jack," Steve declared.

"Why?"

"I don't know. He just looks like his name should be Jack."

The giant turned back to Arnold. "Is your name Jack?" he asked slowly.

Arnold didn't understand, but he heard the name. "My name is Arnold!" he shouted, stomping his foot for effect.

Thag adjusted his glasses uneasily. "He seems rather upset."

"Maybe you aren't being a good host," Steve suggested coolly.

"Right you are. Listen, Jack. Are you thirsty?" He made gestures toward his mouth. "Are you hungry? Do you want food?" He rubbed his belly, hoping for the wonders of universal sign language.

Arnold screamed at the top of his lungs. He had just been saved from falling off a corn stalk, and now this huge man-thing was going to eat him! He ran for the door, but stopped. He might as well get something for all his trouble. He grabbed the metal device and ran for the corn stalk.

Thag followed the little man as far as the door. "Wait! We didn't even have a cup of tea!" he called after him.

Arnold dared to look behind him only once. He saw the monster standing on the steps, bellowing at him. He had to make it down to the ground fast before he was caught.

"What an odd little chap," the giant said as he watched the man scamper down the corn stalk.

"Well, mate, there's just no accounting for those little people."

"I wonder why he took my broken pair of glasses."

"It's like I said: there's no accounting for them. I think you have to fix me some breakfast now."

"Right you are, mate."

----------

Arnold slid down the last few feet of plant and collapsed, panting. The crowd gathered around him. When he got his breath back, he told them of a horrible gigantic man that lived in a castle in the clouds, who was ready for vengeance against the theft of his valuable… whatever it was. "Sound the alarm!" he shouted. "We have to cut down this stalk before he comes after all of us!" Everyone within miles was alerted of the danger.

It was only a few minutes before people started showing up. The first rode up on a horse; he was an armed, armor-clad warrior. "Nothing can withstand a blow from _Slayer_, my sword," he growled. He drew it and held it at ready position. Yelling heroically, he ran forward and swung. With a disappointing thud, the sword bounced off. However, the warrior was game for more. He yelled, a bit more loudly this time, and came at it again. _Slayer_ bounced and hit the ground. Embarrassed, he rode away as quickly as possible.

"This is going to be a long day," Arnold muttered under his breath.

----------

Pythagorum heard a yell outside and paused in sipping his tea. "I say, whatever is that racket?"

Steve took another bite. "I don't know," he said, almost incoherent with his mouth full. "You go see, and I'll stay here and guard the food."

Thag chuckled and headed for the door. A few moments later, he called, "I don't know, Steve. You might want to see this."

By the time they were both outside, it really was a spectacle. One man held a box, and the other a book. The man with the book was reading in slow, droning tones: "…And three shall be the number of thine counting. Thou shall not count to four, nor shall thou count to two, excepting that thou then proceed to three…"

"How odd," Thag commented.

After a bit more speaking, a third man took a golden ball out of the box. Everyone backed up a good distance. They heard him shout, "One, two, three!" Then he chunked it. There was a huge explosion; Thag covered his ears.

When the ringing stopped, Steve asked, "What in the world are they trying to do?"

"I think they're trying to knock the corn stalk down."

"Good luck."

The three men left, and another came. He pulled various items out of a bag and kept clapping Jack on the shoulder. Most of what they could hear was, "Boy, have I got a deal for _you_!" and, "That's my guarantee!"

"He's a salesman?" Thag asked, frowning.

"_That's_ a sensible alternative."

"I know; but a salesman?"

"Hey, mate, don't knock the advertising business."

----------

"This product is guaranteed to kill any plant, no matter how large! That's right, folks; you can use this not only for colossal city-sized weeds, but in your own backyard! That's my guarantee!"

"Ooh," the crowd said, enthralled.

Arnold was not so pleased. "Just use it," he said shortly. "You can advertise later."

Though disappointed, the salesman did as he was told. He poured a whole bottle at the base of the plant. He turned around and grinned; the crowd held their collective breath, waiting for the amazing guaranteed results. Nothing happened. All Arnold had to do was point in a general direction and the salesman trudged off.

No one else was volunteering after that. Suddenly, Arnold spotted the man who had sold him the corn kernels in the first place. He came up behind him and grabbed his coat.

"Hello, Jack," the old man said calmly.

"My name… is _Arnold_," he growled through gritted teeth. "Get it straight!"

"Sorry. I keep forgetting."

"This plant came from that corn, didn't it?"

"I did tell you to be careful." He cackled, and then began to cough.

"How do you get rid of it?"

"The only way to kill a giant corn stalk… is to hit it with the moon!"

"What?!" Arnold shook him.

"I'm just kidding! You have to chop it down with a herring! That's all!"

Arnold set the old man down. "You chop it down with a… a herring?"

He shrugged. "I didn't make it up. That's really what you have to do. And now, young Jack… um, Arnold… I must go!" He cackled all the way down the street.

Arnold scratched his head, bemused. What was a herring, anyway?

----------

"They need a herring, do they?" Thag muttered to himself. "You'd never get a herring outside Britain." He snapped his fingers. "I have just the thing!"

"You're going to _help_ them cut it down?" Steve asked incredulously.

"I can't have any more savages in my house, now, can I? I'm going to speed up the process a bit."

"But that's no fun!"

Thag grinned and started toward the kitchen. He was fairly sure that he had a can of pickled herring _somewhere_...

----------

Arnold was stuck. He was sure that the giant would come after him any minute now, but he had no idea what a herring was, much less how to cut something down with it. The whole city had been milling about for the better part of an hour now, unsure of what to do.

Suddenly, someone screamed. Arnold looked up, certain it was the giant, but he couldn't see anything. He looked over to the left and saw someone on the ground. There was a young woman beside the body, screaming at the top of her lungs. When he had calmed her down a bit, she sobbed, "This fish fell out of the sky and hit my boyfriend on the head! I think he's died! Now I'll never get married!" She burst into tears, overcome by a fresh wave of despair.

"I'm not dead yet!" the boy called, and she rushed to him. Arnold picked up the fish. Someone had tied a string around it. Attached was a card that said, "Herring." Apparently, a herring was a flying fish.

"Everyone back up!" he bellowed. They complied without question. Someone carried the wounded boy away. With one huge swing, Arnold hit the stalk with the herring. There was an ominous creak, and the outside of the stalk began to crack. The top started to sway and lean.

"Run away!" Arnold screamed. There was mass panic as the corn stalk wobbled over and toppled to the ground. The frightened screams turned into cheers as they all realized that a giant was not, in fact, going to come down and eat them all. They hoisted Arnold up onto their shoulders. "Hip, hip, hurray! Jack is our hero!" they shouted. Arnold decided that, for this once, he could deal with it.

----------

"Well, that's that," Pythagorum said, smiling. "Let's get back inside, shall we?"

"My breakfast is probably cold by now," Steve said sulkily.

Thag grinned. "I'll make you some more. Would you like herring?"

Steve made a disgusted face. "No, thanks."

----------

The fallen giant corn stalk became such a problem in the area of travel and communication that Czechoslovakia had to split up into the Czech Republic and Slovakia. The very tip of the stalk had fallen all the way in England, where it broke the London Bridge. The Irish, who were in the middle of a potato famine, took all the corn from it and they were saved from starvation. They, at least, lived happily ever after. The Irish always do.

**The End**

**Wasn't that fun? Review! Tell me how many references you spotted.**


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